Twenty-four
by SincerelyNoted
Summary: Remember that one time Gilbert asked out a cute guy and got rejected? Yeah, Gilbert doesn't remember either. Or that's what he likes to tell himself at least. Just when he thinks he's finally gotten over the pain of his wounded pride, he comes face-to-face with said cute guy once again. Awkward Conversation Level: Hella. College AU.
1. Of Coffee and Eye Bags

Gilbert was such a fucking idiot. He'd had three weeks to do this. Three whole weeks. He could've been partying the night away with his friends, but was he? No, he wasn't. Instead, he was sitting in an empty coffeehouse at three in the morning writing a ten page paper like the idiot he was. Just a few hours earlier said idiot had been lounging around in his dorm room without a care in the world, ready to spend his Thursday night surrounded by friends, shitty booze, and deafening music.

"Hurry the fuck up, Francis," Gilbert groaned, sitting up from his sloppily made bed. The antsy young freshman had been itching to go to this party since he woke up that morning, and although he'd begrudgingly decided to do the so called "right thing" and go to all his classes that day, the watch on his wrist seemed to be getting more attention than his professors.

"Beauty like this takes time, Gilbert," Francis said. He rubbed at the fine stubble along his chin as he admired his reflection in the mirror, winking for good measure.

"Yeah, yeah. You're pretty," he grumbled. "You waiting for the mirror to tell you that?" he teased, snickering when blonde tuned to glare at him.

"You know what's not fashionable, Gilbert?" he asked sardonically, smoothing down the crisp lapels of his blazer. "Being early."

Gilbert opened his mouth ready to retort, but quickly shut it, realizing that he was out of awesomely clever comebacks at the moment. A childish pout was currently all he could come up with. Francis put on a triumphant smirk, satisfied at having shut up the restless man.

Glancing back at the clock on the wall behind him, Francis noted that it was nearly half past eleven. "I'm sure you can wait a measly thirty minutes, _non_? Toni's got the right idea," he said, motioning to their unusually quiet roommate, who'd been click-clacking away on his phone for a while now.

"_Q-Qué_?" Antonio quickly looked up at the mention of his name, a sheepish look on his handsome, tanned face.

"Ha!" Gilbert barked aloud. "Yeah, right. The only reason Toni's so quiet over there is because he's probably about to jizz himself texting Feli's grumpy twin." His eyebrows rose in awe when Antonio's face began to flush as he vehemently denied any such thing.

"Oh shit, I was just joking. Oh god, Toni," he laughed, "Are you really…?" Gilbert felt a little sorry for ratting out his friend. Accidentally. Man, was he psychic or what? In his head he checked off yet another thing that made him so damn awesome.

"Oh hon?" Francis' curiosity had been piqued. "And I was wondering why you were so quiet." He began to slowly close in on where Antonio sat on his bed. "Care to share?" he asked, eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

"No, no," Antonio laughed nervously, waving a dismissive hand and backing away as the other advanced. "It's nothing like that. We were just…" he hesitated, clutching his phone to his chest, "talking."

"Oh? So, then it's alright if I take a peek, yes?"

"No," came the brunette's hurried reply. "Forget it, Francis." He gripped the phone tightly in his sweaty palm and swallowed thickly as a mischievous grin crept onto his friend's amused face.

"Why not? I can show you mine and Arthur's dirty texts!" he offered, Gilbert gagging loudly behind him in response.

"_Dios mio_, no!" Antonio's bright green eyes widened when Francis' hands neared his torso. "W-wait! Don't-" His pleas were cut short as he broke into obnoxious laughter.

Antonio began to desperately beg for Gilbert's help between gasps of air, but the victim's only lifeline had already tuned them out, having decided to pass the time by checking his email. Gilbert was pretty horrible about checking his mail and as he scrolled through the sea of spam in his inbox, he promised himself that he would break that habit. This would be one of the many promises he most likely wouldn't keep. He paused as he came across an email from one of his professors, received three days ago. Slowly sitting up on his bed, he brought the smartphone closer to his face, squinting at the screen as he began to read.

_Students,_

_Many of you have sent me emails over the past few days about being unable to submit your papers into Blackboard Online last week due to multiple site errors. As of today, the technical complications have been resolved and you should be able to submit your papers without difficulty. If you encounter any further problems, do not hesitate to contact me. As a reminder, your papers are due this Friday at 7 AM at the latest. No exceptions. No excuses._

_Best,_

_H. Kaz_

His stomach dropped.

The paper. 7 AM. _Tomorrow_.

"Holy shhhit."

At Gilbert's sudden outburst, Francis ceased his assault on Antonio. "What? Did Roderich finally confess to you?" he taunted. When he didn't get one of Gilbert's habitual snarky remarks about 'Herr Douchestein,' he became curious, turning around to see Gilbert staring blankly at his phone, his face completely drained of the little color it possessed.

"Gil?" He frowned deeply when he didn't get a response. For all the years Francis had known Gilbert, he had never seen such a distressed expression on his face.

Antonio noticed as well, and the smile he wore quickly disappeared. He wondered just what Gilbert could have seen to make him react in such a way. "Hey," he gently prodded as he wiped a few stray tears from his eyes. "What's wrong, Gilbert?" It took a few moments for him to respond, a small, cynical chuckle escaping his lips.

"I am so fucked."

* * *

And these were the very same words that echoed in Gilbert's head as he stared at the blank white page on the screen in front of him. His deep red eyes, exhausted from staring for hours on end at his brightly lit computer screen, glanced down to the very left corner of his Word document. 7 pages out of 10, it said. Good. This was good, he thought to himself. Three more pages to go. Not bad for having started at midnight. Gilbert sighed softly, running a hand through his silvery white hair. He was frustrated with himself. He was no stranger to last minute assignments, but this was an all-nighter of epic proportions. Gilbert swore that if he made it out of this with his brain still intact, he would never do something so idiotic ever again. Because only idiots found themselves writing a paper the day it was due. Gilbert's tired eyes then shifted to the opposite corner to check the time. It was a quarter past three. He had a little over three hours to finish this thing and submit it. He could do this. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt. Hell yeah, he could do this. He focused his eyes on the blank page in front of him, watching the cursor blink steadily.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

He started to feel like it was mocking him, and Gilbert Beilschmidt did not like to be mocked. With his fingers on the home keys of his keyboard he began to feverishly type. Nothing could distract him. Not the clanking of dishes in the shop's back kitchen, or the hissing of espresso machines, and definitely not the mouthwatering scent of fresh baked goods wafting through the air. Gilbert meant business. That night would be the first and last time the tuckered out college student wrote so passionately about tree fungus.

As Gilbert began to reach the end of his paper, he became paranoid. He was just waiting for something bad to happen. It probably didn't help that he was hungry and severely sleep deprived. Despite the fact that it was plugged into a nearby outlet and charging just as it should, Gilbert was sure that at any moment his laptop would just die on him. He was positive that Word would freeze up and crash on him. He had lost count of the amount of times he'd saved his work. The 'Ctrl' and 'S' keys had become his new best friends. _Something_ was going to sabotage him, he just knew it. He was _expecting_ it. What he didn't expect, though, was a piping hot cup of coffee to be placed in front of him.

Following the direction of the rising steam, he looked up to see a spectacled young man, an apron tied securely around his thin waist. Gilbert quickly came to the conclusion that he was one of the café's employees. The blonde wore a gentle smile as he placed a few napkins next to the hot beverage, setting a well-polished teaspoon on its saucer. A quick glance at his fitted vest revealed the absence of a name tag, and Gilbert guessed that either the guy forgot it at home that day, or that maybe this place was too cool for name tags. Yeah, maybe it was some new hipster trend. Either way, he had to tell this guy that he'd made a mistake.

Having finally found his voice, Gilbert began to protest. "Hold on, I-" He hesitated briefly as their eyes met, momentarily silenced by the striking pair of violet eyes behind the other's sleek, black frames. "I, uh," he continued, "didn't order anything."

The waiter smiled again and Gilbert began to wonder why his mouth had gotten so dry. "It's on the house," he said simply. "You looked like you needed it."

"Oh." He rubbed at the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "Wow, thanks." It was then that Gilbert noticed how ridiculous he must have looked with his books and notes scattered all over his table, typing like a maniac. "Yeah," he chuckled, "I must look pretty crazy, huh?"

The employee hummed thoughtfully, folding his hands behind his back. "You look…dedicated," he said, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Oh, yeah?" Gilbert gave a short laugh. "That's a nice way to put it."

"Well, insulting customers sort of goes against company policy," he said, glancing over his shoulder for effect before adding, "I'd rather not lose my job."

"Oh _ho_," he said wryly, a wide grin stretched across his face. Gilbert wasn't expecting free coffee with a fresh side of sass. "So you're sayin' if I weren't a customer, your answer would be different?"

The waiter gave an innocent shrug, but the answer was clearly written on his smug face. "That's a possibility."

"Heh," Gilbert chuckled and leaned back a bit in his chair. "I see how it is." This guy, he thought. Who does he think he is with his cute face and awesomely clever comebacks? Wait. What?

The other's eyebrows raised suddenly, his eyes lighting up. "So, you go to Old Deen, too?"

"Oh, yeah," he said after a moment's hesitation. Gilbert made a slightly confused expression. "How did you…?"

The man glanced over at Gilbert's worn backpack sitting idly in the seat across from him. "Your button."

Gilbert followed his gaze and saw he was referring to the small button pinned to the front of his bag. On it were the words 'I LOVE ODU' and Gilbert nearly rolled his eyes. He forgot Antonio put that on there. He'd been nagging Gilbert about how he needed to be more "spirited," and to shut him up, Gilbert let him put on that tacky button.

"Oh." He turned back and nodded. "Yeah," he replied, "you too?"

"Yeah."

"Awesome. What year?"

"Freshman. You?"

"Yeah, me too." Gilbert wasn't too surprised. They weren't too far away from the university, so it wasn't surprising that local students might work there. Gilbert smirked as he reached to grab his cup from its saucer. He was actually feeling kind of…glad.

The smile on the fellow student's face told Gilbert that the feeling was mutual. "Oh," he said as Gilbert raised the cup to his lips, blowing at the steam. "I wasn't sure if you wanted any sweeteners or not, so I didn't add anything." He looked apologetic as he added, "I should've asked you sooner. If you'd like any cream or sugar, I can bring some for you."

"Oh, uh, no. It's cool."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it," Gilbert insisted. He didn't usually drink his coffee black, but he would feel like a freeloader if he made the guy do anything else for him. Plus, he figured drinking it straight would give him caffeine buzz he so desperately needed.

"Alright. Well, I won't keep you from your work anymore than I already have," he said, glancing over at Gilbert's MacBook. The screen had gone black from inactivity.

"Oh. Right." The paper. The paper he'd been driving himself crazy over not even five minutes earlier. Had it really been that short? He wasn't feeling anywhere near as stressed as he was just minutes ago. He was really enjoying this little conversational break after hours on end of silence and finger cramps. Even so, Gilbert reminded himself that he had paper to submit and he knew his much-appreciated distraction needed to get back to work. He didn't know why, but suddenly he was feeling a little disappointed.

"My name is Matthew, by the way. I'll be up front if you need anything else." He motioned to the front counter where another employee was busy restocking supplies.

Gilbert nodded. "My name's Gilbert," he replied. He didn't know why he introduced himself. He didn't even know if they would see each other again after tonight, but somehow he felt the need to do so. "And hey, thanks again. For the coffee."

"My pleasure, Gilbert," Matthew said with a smile as he turned to leave. "Good luck on finishing that assignment."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"You should come back and see us again," he called over his shoulder. "Maybe during normal hours of the day?"

"Heh." Gilbert gave an innocent shrug as he replied, "That's a possibility." He nearly snickered when Matthew slowly shook his head, clearly amused at having his own words used against him.

"No one likes suspense, Gilbert," the blonde playfully chided as he walked away, a fleeting smile on his face. And Gilbert definitely didn't watch him as he did so.

Man, Gilbert's mouth was really dry for some reason. He took a large gulp from the warm cup in his hands, sighing as the bitter liquid warmed his throat. Matthew, huh? He thought to himself with a small smile tugging at his lips. This night turned out to be a little less shitty than he thought it would be. Taking another sip, he absentmindedly glanced down at the pile of napkins in front of him. Printed on them was the word 'twenty-four' in bold, quirky lettering, followed by the slogan "Why sleep when you can eat?" Gilbert laughed to himself. God, that was so cheesy. Twenty-four, huh? That _was_ the name of this place, wasn't it?

When Gilbert rushed into the café hours earlier, he hadn't given two shits about what it was called. All he knew was that it was quiet, it had Wi-Fi, and most importantly, it was open. The only reason he was there in the first place was because two of his floormates had decided that that particular night would be a great night to fuck each other in the ass. And there was no way in hell Gilbert was going to sit around in his room with those paper-thin walls and listen. With the on-campus Starbucks and library closed for the night, he was forced to find an alternative, and that's how he ended up at this hole-in-the-wall java joint.

The sun had already started to rise as Gilbert packed away his laptop and other belongings. Well. He'd done it. He'd completed the All-Nighter of Epic Proportions. Gilbert's face was smug. Of course he had. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt. He packed until nothing was left on the table but his empty cup and accompanying napkins. He stared at the remnants of Matthew's kindness and his expression softened. He looked up to the front counter, hoping to catch one last glimpse of his late-night savior, but he was nowhere to be found. Gilbert frowned slightly, figuring that his shift had already ended. As he stood and threw his bag over his shoulder, however, he discovered he was wrong. Matthew was still there. He was busy wiping down tables, and he was steady heading in Gilbert's direction.

Gilbert wanted to say something. At first he thought he wanted to thank Matthew again, waving goodbye to him as he left. But then he realized that he didn't want to just leave it at that. Gilbert decided that he could say goodbye and hope that they might meet again the next time he decided to drop by, or maybe he could make it so that they _would_ meet again.

Gilbert was long gone by the time Matthew made it to his table, and the young barista smiled as he cleared the dishes from its surface, wondering if Gilbert ever finished what he was working so hard on. He paused just before he swept the untouched napkins into the trash bin alongside him, realizing that there was something written on one of the napkins. Bringing it closer face, he began to read, his eyes narrowed in concentration as they scanned each word. The handwriting was a bit messy and some things were violently scribbled out, but the note was still legible. The note read:

_So, I finished my paper. And I pretty much owe that to you for saving my sorry ass. Yeah, it was just coffee, but seriously I can guarantee you that if you hadn't come around when you did, I'd be failing bio right now so...thanks._

_Anyway, I don't want you to think I'm a freeloader or anything. You were awesome enough to treat me, so I wanna pay you back. Cause it would be pretty unawesome of me not to. And since we, you know, go to the same school and everything I was thinking that if you had some free time, we could meet up at Starbucks or something and chill? Get to know each other and all that. Cause I think you're pretty cool. Oh shit wait. You're probably sick of coffee right? Panera? Ugh, I dunno. I'll just leave it up to you. Cool? Cool. Whenever you're free, just shoot me a text._

_-Gilbert_

_555-0483_

_P.S. No one likes suspense, Matthew!_

Matthew swallowed hard, dropping the note back onto the table, confusion clearly written on his face. His body had gone rigid, and as he glanced once more at the lone napkin in front of him, he whispered to himself, "Oh my _god_?"_  
_

**A/N: Ah, the good ol' all-nighter. You can't get through college without them. It's like having peanut butter without the jelly. And sleep? Who told you college kids sleep? Come on, now. That's such an old myth. I hope you enjoyed this little prologue. Feedback is much appreciated!**


	2. Spotted

There is a certain point in time where waiting has become so painful that it can no longer be called "suspense." After the first week had passed without any response to his spontaneously written note, Gilbert had concluded that "torture" was the more appropriate word. The albino had to remind himself to be patient, and as the weekend came and went, he'd convinced himself that Matthew was pretty busy with work, or that maybe he was swamped with school or something. But when the second week had passed and Gilbert's phone was still short of a new contact, he was forced to accept that he would never receive the message he'd anticipated. The epitome of awesomeness himself had been turned down. But he was over it. Sure, he spent the next few weeks in denial, wondering why he hadn't just left without a word and saved himself the embarrassment, but he was definitely over it. Yep. Gilbert was too awesome to be wallowing in the humiliation of his recent failure. He had a Halloween party to get to.

"Guys, have you seen my eye patch?" Antonio called from behind his bed. He scratched at his head and repositioned the feathered hat he wore, frowning slightly. "I could've sworn I just had it," he thought aloud.

Gilbert grinned, pulling his own patch over his right eye. "You're wearing it, genius," he answered, tapping lightly at his forehead when Antonio stared at him in confusion.

The Spaniard frisked his chocolaty brown bangs, his mouth forming a small "o" as he came across the elusive eyewear. He smiled sheepishly. "Gracias."

Gilbert just laughed as the brunette covered one of his eyes and glanced over to the other side of the room to see how the third pirate was coming along. Francis was tying a ribbon in his long blonde hair, pulling it back into a low ponytail. "Cute ribbon, Franny," he teased. "Pretty sure Blackbeard would've skipped out on the hair accessories though."

"Hmph," Francis scoffed as he secured the red sash in his hair. He gave a smug smile as he fluffed his cravat. "Blackbeard _wishes_ he looked this good."

Gilbert chuckled as he pulled out his cell to check the time. "Oh, crap," he said, quickly standing up from his cluttered desk. "C'mon, guys, we gotta go. I told West we'd be outside like five minutes ago." Gilbert was surprised that his brother hadn't sent him a text message to nag at him like he usually did. He was complaining though. At Gilbert's orders, the charmingly handsome pirate crew was soon out the door and headed for the student parking lot to meet up with their designated driver for the night.

As the three approached the familiar black vehicle, they were stunned by what they saw through the car's front windshield. In the sparsely lit parking lot the trio could just make out the silhouettes of the driver and his passenger, and they were…pretty close.

Antonio cupped his hands over his mouth, shaking with stifled laughter while a naughty smile crept onto Francis' face. "C'est l'amour, eh?" he crooned, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

If someone had told Gilbert that he would one day catch his stickler of a brother in a dark, empty parking lot lip-locked with his boyfriend, Gilbert wouldn't have believed them. The shock he was feeling was quickly replaced by a feeling of pride. "Look at my little bruder makin' out and shit," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He had to resist the urge to pull out his phone and snap a picture.

With a mischievous grin on his pale face, he approached the front of the car and leaned down to knock on the windshield, quickly tapping on it three times. He cackled at the way the couple jumped and looked forward, their expressions changing from pure shock to beyond embarrassed. Gilbert waved and the flushed Italian riding shotgun shyly returned the greeting, but his brother only facepalmed, popping the lock so that the three could get in.

Francis wolf whistled upon entering the car, causing Antonio to giggle. "At least turn on the defroster, guys. Looks like it's getting a little steamy in here, eh?" he mocked. Ludwig groaned loudly as he started up the car.

"Maybe we should've gotten dressed a bit more slowly, ja West?" Gilbert added, laughing when Antonio actually snorted.

"_Nein, bruder_," Ludwig spat through gritted teeth. The blonde's face was on fire as he pulled out of the parking lot, and he wished that he could just disappear right then and there. But when he heard the bubbly Italian next to him break into laughter as well, he found himself feeling a little more at ease.

"Feli, you're so cute!" Antonio gushed, referring to the costume the twin wore. He was dressed as a certain famous Italian plumber, mustache and all.

"Grazie!" Feliciano chirped. "I even convinced Lovino to be Luigi!" he announced with a bright smile on his face.

"What? Ahh, that's even cuter!" he squealed, eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Lovi's going to be so cute!"

"I still can't believe you dressed up, West," Gilbert snickered, eying the laurel crown atop the driver's head and the white toga wrapped around his body. He was glad to see his stick-in-the-mud brother doing something silly for once. Still, it was weird seeing him in the Greek getup. His hair wasn't even slicked back as it usually was, instead falling downwards as it did naturally.

"Doesn't he look handsome?" Feliciano giggled, playing with the German's soft, blonde locks.

Ludwig sighed softly, a light flush coloring his cheeks. He glanced briefly at his brother through the rear view mirror before responding, "I'd rather look ridiculous for one night, than pay ten dollars to get into a house party."

Gilbert nodded in understanding. The entry price was pretty steep for a house party, but that's why the host gave everyone the other option of dressing up. Guests could either wear a costume and pay just five dollars at the door, or come without one and pay double that. Of course with college students being as frugal and fun-loving as they were, the majority of them gladly chose the second option. The only reason the host could get away with charging so much, though, was because he had built a rather good reputation for himself.

"Just wait 'til we get there though," Gilbert added. "This guy's house is insane."

"Yeah, "Francis piped in, "Feliks knows how to throw a party." The trio grinned knowingly at each other, remembering how much fun they all had the last time they'd gone to the sophomore's house.

"I'm sure," Ludwig replied sarcastically, his expectations less than great. The German would be in for a major surprise, however, when he pulled up to what could only be described as a miniature mansion. It was absolutely enormous, and just from looking at the amount of people talking and loitering about outside, Ludwig estimated that there had to be around 100 people at the very least. The house was generously covered in cobwebs, and strategically placed ghosts, spiders, and other eerie props hung from the trees that stood out front.

"Creepy," Feliciano muttered, hunching closer to the man behind the wheel.

"Is this…it?" Ludwig asked, still in disbelief.

"This is it," Gilbert said. The albino gave a lopsided grin. This was going to be one hell of a night.

* * *

The house was even more amazing on the inside. The foyer was decorated ceiling to floor with some of the creepiest things the group had ever seen, the most disturbing being the violently mutilated zombie that hung from the foyer's large chandelier, the prop's entrails dangling freely from its body.

"So, are you guys gonna just, like, stand there the whole night, or what?" echoed a distanced voice.

The party turned in the direction of the voice's origin and spotted a petite young blonde dressed as Alice waving from the top of the winding staircase. The Mary Janes he wore clicked to a rhythm as he skipped down the marbled steps, and he gave a short curtsy as he reached the bottom, lifting the ends of his dainty blue dress. "Welcome to my, like, humble abode," he said, a playful smirk on his face.

"Feliks, this is awesome!" Gilbert shouted, his voice bouncing off the surrounding walls.

"You really went all out, huh?" Antonio said, still gawking at seemingly endless decorations.

Feliks placed a hand on his hip and flashed a self-satisfied smile. "Totally. Were you expecting, like, any less?" He then tilted his head slightly, looking over at the familiar faces to his left. He'd spoken briefly with the muscular blonde in one of his classes, and he and the Italian were friendly as well, both being members of student government. "Glad you guys could make it. You haven't been to any of my parties before, right?"

"Nope!" Feliciano said, followed by Ludwig who answered in the negative as well.

Feliks nodded. "Okay so, like, these are the ground rules. The regulars already know them, but since you guys are, like, newbies, I'll lay them out for you." He held up a prettily polished fingertip, adding more as he went down the list. "One: you break it, you buy it. Pretty self-explanatory, you know? Two: no fighting. This isn't, like, a fight club or something. And three: no romping on the premises. Take your frisky business to your own rooms. Like, seriously."

Ludwig visibly cringed at the last rule. "You had to make a rule…like that?" he asked, his face contorted in an expression of disgust.

Francis smirked knowingly, remembering the night Feliks walked into a bathroom and found a couple in a rather compromising position. He was absolutely livid. "It was newly added," the Frenchman said vaguely.

"Ugh, basically," Feliks scoffed. "Like, I thought it was common sense _not_ to have sex in someone else's house, but I guess not."

Feliciano giggled. "Don't worry, Feliks. Luddy and I can wait until we get home!"

"F-Feliciano!" The German stammered, groaning as his brother and his entourage broke into a chorus of suggestive whooping, howling, and whistling. Feliks was doing his best to hold back his own laughter. The ringing of the front doorbell stole the bashful couple's momentary spotlight, much to Ludwig's relief.

"Oh, that must be the pizza guy," the host announced, slowly making his way to the door. "Go ahead and, like, get inside guys," he said, motioning to the doorway beneath the staircase. "That's where the good stuff is."

"Yeah, let's go!" Feliciano chimed, linking arms with the man at his side and dragging him along through the door. Gilbert and company quickly followed suit, eager to see what more the place had to offer.

The music was loud, but not uncomfortably so, and Gilbert couldn't help bobbing his head along to the bass as they made their way to the kitchen to fill their stomachs. They decided to take a slight detour, however, when they saw what was going on in the next room over. Around twenty or so people had gathered in the living room and were currently watching a rather wild round of Twister. Initially, the crowd had gathered to watch people fall flat on their faces, but something even more entertaining seemed to be keeping their attention.

With the way people were hovering around the mat, the trio decided to go take a look at what everyone was getting so worked up about. Gilbert stubbornly walked over, a little annoyed that his own curiosity was getting in the way of him and his precious pizza. He peeked through the crowd, his eye patch making it much more difficult than it needed to be, and his mouth dropped open when he saw what had garnered such an audience.

Right in the middle of the floor were the two remaining players, Alfred F. Jones and Ivan Braginski, deadlocked in a position so ridiculous that Gilbert had to remind himself that they were playing a children's game, and not in the middle of foreplay. The sizable Russian was frozen in a crab walk position, supporting his body weight with his hands placed behind his back and his feet flat on the ground. He did his best to keep his cape out of the way, else he risked slipping on it and losing to the lanky blonde hovering above him. His bitter rival was stuck in an even stranger pose, steadying himself on the balls of his feet with one hand at Ivan's side and the other between his legs.

"Oh my god," Gilbert laughed, a crooked smile stretching across his face. "Oh my god. Are you guys _seeing_ this?"

"Oh, I'm seeing this," Francis said as he hurriedly pulled out his phone from his back pocket.

Antonio was unable to look away as he responded, grinning with excitement. "I've never seen them so, uh, close to each other." Indeed, this was the most intimate the two students had ever been, and it was being witnessed by a room full of strangers.

* * *

This was just fucking peachy, Alfred thought, his face growing hotter and hotter with each passing second. The smug look his opponent wore wasn't making his situation any better, and if Alfred wasn't so determined win this dumb game, he would've strangled that stupid look off his face a long time ago. Fucking Braginski. A sudden flash of light pulled the blonde from his violent fantasies and he whirled his head around with a look of complete terror on his face. That better not have been what he thought it was.

"Tsk. Alfred, you moved!" Francis gave a frustrated sigh. Alfred gasped when he spotted the peeved Frenchman and his eyes widened at the smartphone in his hands. "Ugh, now the picture is blurry. Stay still!"

"Francis!" he shouted. "Dude, no pics!"

The man beneath him hummed softly. "But why not, Fredka?" He chuckled as Alfred shot him a nasty glare. "Why not capture this beautiful moment of intimacy between us?" Ivan didn't bother to hide his amusement, a small smirk reaching his lips. It was rather difficult to take his opponent seriously when he was dressed as a toy cowboy from a silly children's film. The cow print vest was painfully tacky, Ivan thought, but was somehow becoming of the blonde staring him down.

"Shut up, you creepy fuck!" Alfred spat, wishing that the burning in his cheeks would just go away. He felt a slight shiver go up his spine as Ivan let out a little giggle, flashing the most innocent smile. He was just aching to punch him in that big, stupid nose of his. He nearly scoffed at the fake blood staining Ivan's mouth. A few more minutes with him and Alfred would gladly get the real blood flowing.

"Ahem." The tiny young man overseeing the round wanted to make sure he had the players' full attention. His cool brown eyes shifted from the grinning vampire to the flustered cowboy clinging to the mat for dear life. "Are you ready for your next turn, Alfred-san?" he asked.

"Yeah, whatever," he sighed and tugged down on the brim of his hat in an attempt to hide his ruddy face. "Let's just get this over with already." With a nod, the referee flicked the spinner clutched in his hands. A few seconds of silence passed as everyone waited for the announcing of the next move.

"Right hand, red."

Alfred sighed with relief and quickly snatched his hand from between Ivan's legs. He glanced around the mat, assessing his options for his next move. His breathing hitched when he realized he didn't have very many. He stared at the red dot near Ivan's waist and inwardly groaned. He knew it was the only one he could physically reach without losing his balance, as much as he hated to admit it. It was either get closer to the sadistic bastard or lose to the sadistic bastard. His eyes slowly wandered to Ivan, and Alfred could tell from the devilish smirk he wore that he had already picked up on his dilemma. He was screwed.

"Kiku?" Alfred's voice was desperate as he peeked over his shoulder. "Could you maybe, y'know, spin it again?"

Kiku shook his head, dark hair swaying gently, and gave a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, Alfred-san. But that would be against the rules."

Alfred thought he could have been imagining things, but to him it didn't look like his friend was all that sorry about his current predicament. He sighed, looking down once again at the mat and then back to Ivan. His smile had gotten even wider, and he flashed his plastic fangs as he fixed Alfred with a predatory stare. The cornered man countered with an equally intimidating stare of his own. There was no way he was backing down now. Not after making it this far. Nothing could be as bad as having his hand near Ivan's crotch, he reasoned, and in one swift movement he slammed his hand down at Ivan's side, leaning down so that their faces were only inches apart. Ivan was visibly surprised, and it was Alfred's turn to look smug.

"Now what?" he whispered.

Ivan said nothing, a husky laugh leaving his lips. He leaned forward and their noses just barely touched, causing Alfred to jerk away. Ivan laughed again, watching his opponent's face take on a pinkish hue.

"W-What's so funny?" he demanded, annoyed that Ivan once again had the upper hand.

The Russian slowly reached up and tilted back the brim of the cowboy hat Alfred wore. Before Alfred had any time to sputter out one of his usual insults, Ivan yanked down on the bandana tied around his neck, pulling the unsuspecting young sheriff into a forceful kiss. Alfred couldn't move. His mind was flooded with a thousand thoughts all at once, all of which became more and more panicked as each second passed. Why was this bastard kissing him? Why wasn't he moving? Why were they _still_ kissing? Why did this asshole smell sort of nice? Why were his lips freakishly soft? Why was he thinking these thoughts all of a sudden? Why wasn't he resisting? Why were his eyelids slowly closing?

Alfred was pushed back onto the mat with a bit of force as Ivan broke the kiss, his mind still trying to comprehend what had just happened. His eyes were wide as his hand quickly came to cover his mouth. He was confused and now all he could taste was vodka. He nearly missed the victor's next words as he stood and stretched his stiff limbs.

"It looks like I've won this round, Fredka."

* * *

Matthew was too patient for his own good. He snuck a peek at the clock on the wall across the room, momentarily tuning out the rambling man beside him. It was hard to make out the time with the room being so dimly lit, and the fact that the clock was covered in grimy cobwebs didn't help much either, but Matthew managed. It was half past midnight. He sighed inwardly and sunk into the plush sofa beneath him, realizing that he'd just spent the past 15 minutes listening to his brother babble on and on about his hatred for all things Russian with big, dumb noses and stupid, smug faces and shitty tasting lips. Yep, Matthew was listening to Alfred rant about Ivan. Again. He nodded mechanically as his brother's voice came droning back into his ears, mumbling generic responses to reassure him that he was listening. But he wasn't really. He'd stopped listening after the first five minutes or so because Alfred had started repeating himself. Ivan was a jerk, Alfred hated his entire being, and he would kill him the next time he saw him. Matthew got it the first time around. It wasn't like he believed any of it though. Alfred was such a terrible liar. His phone vibrating in his back pocket alerted him to a new text message and Matthew quickly sat up to retrieve it, thankful for the distraction.

"Mmhm," he muttered as he unlocked his phone, just barely registering yet another insult to Ivan's character. The message was from his cousin, and the picture that was attached made his jaw drop. Alfred on top of Ivan, Ivan beneath him, and yeah, they were definitely kissing. Sprawled across a Twister mat and kissing. It was one thing to hear about it from his brother, but to see it was something else. Matthew slowly shook his head, the beginnings of a smile working at his lips.

"Mattieeeeee, you're not even listening," Alfred whined, finally noticing the smartphone in the other's hands. "What are you looking at that's so important, huh?"

Matthew shrugged and replied, "Nothing really."

Alfred narrowed his eyes and fixed his brother with a skeptical glare, finishing off the last sip of the beer in his hand. His curiosity was short-lived, however, as he was too preoccupied with his ranting to press for details. With a shrug of his own, he tossed the empty can into a nearby bin and continued. "Well, like I was saying-"

"You know," Matthew interrupted, a small smirk on his face, "For someone who claims to hate Ivan so much, you looked like you were really enjoying yourself with him here."

"Like hell I was! Mattie, how could you say that? I was-" Alfred stopped abruptly as he fully comprehended what Matthew had said. "What?" His eyes darted back and forth between his brother's amused face and the phone he had yet to look away from. His realization was instantaneous. He lunged wildly across the sofa, snatching the phone from Matthew's hands.

"Hey!"

"Who sent you this?" he demanded, holding the phone in a death grip as color rose to his cheeks. One quick scroll to the bottom revealed the culprit. "Francis," he hissed. "I told him no pics!" He let out an loud whine and plopped backwards unto his previous spot.

Matthew rolled his eyes and took back his phone. "Stop being so melodramatic," he said, shoving the device back into his pocket as he stood. Alfred followed suit, mumbling under his breath. "You can drop the act, Al."

Alfred frowned. "What? What are you talking about?" he asked, feigning ignorance. He crossed his arms defensively across his chest. He hated when his brother acted like he knew everything. Like he had it all figured out. What did he know anyway? Nothing, that's what.

Matthew smiled, readjusting his quirky glasses on the bridge of his nose. His idiot brother was stubborn as always. "You really are a terrible liar." He slipped his hands into his pockets with a small sigh. "Instead of talking to me, what you should be doing is talking to him," he said. "There's no point in avoiding him."

Alfred let out an obnoxious laugh and slapped his brother hard on his back, making him wince. "Dude, whatever. Like I'd actually talk to that creep." He ruffled Matthew's wavy hair, disturbing the snug beanie on his head. "I'm gonna go find Kiku and play some kick-ass video games. Catch you later, bro!" And with that he hurried out of the room, yelling down the hall for his gaming buddy.

* * *

Matthew rolled his eyes yet again, repositioning his hat on his head. Well, that was a complete waste of time, he thought. He slowly made his way to the backyard, which is where he had intended to go before he reluctantly agreed to lend his brother his ears. Alfred was actually the sole reason why he was at this party in the first place. Had Alfred not dragged Matthew along with him, he would most likely be in his room watching Netflix as per usual, eating prepackaged ramen in his PJs. When Matthew wasn't working or swamped with school work, Netflix binges accompanied by processed foods were his favorite pastime. Matthew was a bit of a loner, but not intentionally so. He'd arrived on campus with an open mind, ready to meet new people and eager to make friends, but things turned out to be rather complicated from the start. First, his assigned roommate never showed up. Initially, Matthew wasn't too bothered. After all, he had a whole room to himself, which was a pretty rare occurrence in the overcrowded dorms. After the first few weeks, though, Matthew began to get bored. After the first month, he realized he was pretty lonely.

But it was okay. Matthew had become friendly with some of the other students on his hall, although they seemed to have already formed their cliques and ignored him occasionally, and he had made quite a few acquaintances in his classes. He wished he had someone to pass the time with, but it was okay. His grades were good and he had a steady income. Everything was fine, he thought. He had no right to complain. But if he were being really honest with himself, he felt a little…empty. This feeling nagged at him daily, but he pushed it to the back of his mind, preferring to focus on more important things like school and work. He appreciated Alfred inviting him along, but being around so many strangers, seeing them laugh and joke around with their friends—it only made him feel more alienated.

Matthew soon reached the back door and stepped out onto the patio. A small group of people had gathered around the large fire pit in the center, warming themselves against the chilly night air as they chatted among themselves. Others were playing card games at nearby tables and helping themselves to food they had hoarded from the kitchen. Matthew found a large cooler on the back porch and grabbed himself a drink before taking a seat near the fiery pit. He sat there quietly, enjoying the murmur of conversation around him and the comforting heat of the fire against his face.

"Mind if I sit here, Waldo?" A sudden voice pulled Matthew from his near trance. He quickly glanced to his side to see a man in a pirate costume, and he was pointing to the empty space next to him.

"Uh, no," he answered, shaking his head. "Go ahead."

"Awesome."

Matthew froze as the pirate plopped down next to him. That word. No, that voice. He glanced over at the man next to him, the man's face now more visible in the light of the fire. His white hair fluttered with a passing breeze, a few strands having slipped free from the confines of his hat. Matthew gripped the can in his hands, swallowing thickly.

"Damn, it's cold out here, huh?" The man had stretched his arms out towards the flames to warm his hands, and was oblivious to the pair of eyes cautiously staring him down.

Matthew opened his mouth to respond, but quickly closed it. The weather wasn't important right now. It was him, he thought. It had to be. He continued to stare, brows furrowed with apprehension, until he finally found his voice. "G-Gilbert?"

Gilbert turned to the man beside him, utterly confused by how this stranger knew his name when he hadn't even introduced himself. Matthew gasped softly as their gazes finally met, stunned by the way his bloody red eye seemed to glow in the light of the angry flames. Slowly, Gilbert brought his hand to his face, removing the eye patch obscuring his vision. Looking into those somber, mauve eyes brought back a violent wave of feelings that he'd long kept hidden, and he really wished that he hadn't.

"Matthew?"

Neither of them was ready for this.

**A/N: Omg, how do the side pairings get a kiss scene before the main pairing? Is probably what you're wondering. **** I know, I know, but trust me.** Get ready for the next chapter, in which Gilbert and Matthew finally (sort of) talk things out. Reviews make my LIFE, so thank you to those who have left me a little something to smile at. Thanks for sticking with me and stayed tuned!  



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